D'aicí enfòra

View through an old olive tree

One of the olive trees in this area that survived the great frost of 1956. The majority died but given the remarkable powers of rejuvenation that olive trees have they later grew new trees around the old stumps. This one has recently been harshly pruned, making its leaves and branches less attractive but more likely to produce olives in future years. The vineyard in the background is still waiting for spring, although in another vineyard this morning I did see the first of this year's vine leaves emerging.

I was sad to learn from Kendall's journal that the poet Adrienne Rich died yesterday. She was an inspiration to me as a poet and as a feminist, her prose writings informing my research for my Ph.D. while I enjoyed and learned from her poetry. I quoted hopeful words from her last year in my journal on international women's day and today am trying to imagine the idea in the last lines of her poem that Kendall links to today:

what would it mean to stand on the first
page of the end of despair? ('Dreams Before Waking')